


Senses

by ruby_shooting_stars



Series: Ten Short Stories [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Counting, I Tried, Mornings, Nature, Vague, Walking, pls read, something I felt like writing after walking around my neighborhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:13:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruby_shooting_stars/pseuds/ruby_shooting_stars
Summary: A small trip through senses.





	Senses

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after walking around my neighborhood for a bit. I feel very calm and zen after writing it, and I hope you will be too.

It’s cold.

Even though I’m bundled up in a warm, cotton hoodie, Jack Frost still pricks at my nose, my toes, and fingers. From there, it creeps deeper, into my face, my legs, my arms. It goes farther and farther, until the colds collide deep in my belly, ridding me of warmth.

I revel in it for a split second, then walk into the early, lightless morning.

The paved road has many cracks in it. And filler in the cracks, and cracks in the filler. Nature is trying to take itself back, and we are trying to stop it. It’s a battle between the Mother of us all and the unruly teenager, Society, that has too much stuff on their hands to take care and appreciate their mother. It’s both a sad and uplifting sight, and the emotions join in the mush that is my cold stomach.

Oh, the road turned smoother. This tiny path through the woods is much newer. It’s smaller, and roots have places to grow. There are other paths like this one where the roots have cracked through the road, making bumps that are fun to bounce on, kind of like traffic bumps for pedestrians. They make sure we go slower, calmer, and appreciate the thing that’s slowly destroying the road, and appreciate the thing that’s slowly destroying the forest in return.

I can hear a dog barking in the distance. It’s probably barking at the shrilling of the bird I hear. There are crickets chirping, some of which the bird will probably one day eat. The crickets eat the grasses rustling in the breeze, and the grasses drink the water from the burbling stream far, far to my left. It’s a little overwhelming, the sounds, but I’m thankful it’s nowhere close to school.

There is a whistle of a bird I never heard before. I look up from the smooth road and look straight into a face, shocking me. It’s big, wide, and smiling happily at me. A bird sits in its hair, though I’m uncertain if it’s the same one I heard a few moments ago.

In one eye, there are one, two, three, four bark sections. In the other, there are one, two, three, four, five, six bark sections. In the smiling, kind mouth, there are one, two, three… eighteen, nineteen bark sections, and one, two, three… sixteen, seventeen bark rows.

The bird flies away with a slap of its wings, rustling the leaves it was hiding in. There are one, two, three, four…

Twenty, twenty one, twenty two…

Fifty seven, fifty eight, fifty nine…

One hundred three, one hundred four, one hundred five…

One hundred eighty, one hundred eighty one, one hundred eighty two…

Two hundred thirty four, two hundred thirty five, two hundred thirty six leaves on the branch the bird was sitting on.

Oh, I can see the leaves a little clearer now. They sparkle, the small water droplets radiating with some internal light and wisdom. 

That branch above the Bird Branch seems to have more leaves on it. They’re all very green, almost blinding, but now I can’t resist.

One, two, three…

Two hundred thirty six, two hundred thirty seven, two hundred thirty eight…

Three hundred five, three hundred-

Another face appears infront of me, so sudden that I fall back. Pain on my hands and bottom startle me, and I lose the leaf and number I was on.

The face, one that seems familiar, leans down and grabs my hand, the warmth so shocking I flinch.

“There, now,” it says, mouth turning up at the corners, “Let’s get you home.”

It leads me away, and I look back towards the face I, personally, would call my home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hate it? Love it? Have a bit of both? Tell me why in the comments! I'm always looking to get better, and people giving me feedback on my works is the best way to go!!


End file.
